A Future Life
by hugoGrant
Summary: On the planet Reach, Levi and Petra meet. As usual, the plot thickens as they struggle against external forces pushing them apart. M rating to leave minds innocent of certain sexual ideas. Spanish pops up, but is neither essential nor unexplained.
1. The Interview

Reach was a first. It was the first planet to be colonized outside the range of most starship's jumps. It was the first planet to be colonized by two companies at the same time. The UKPC – United Kingdom Planetary Corporation and CCP – La compania de colonizacion planetal (of Spain) – both laid their claims. A filing issue, because of the new distance, led both proposals for colonization to be accepted. When, a month after the arrival of colonists, the UNO recognized the issue, both companies were steadfast in their right to the planet.

For the first hundred years, the two halves of the planet began a development race. The UN worried that this could have escalated into an arms race. It almost did. Then, a genius move prevented destruction. An ambassador from Argentina mused on combining governments to form a single planet. The Ricardo proposal, as the plan began to be called was tabled for later discussion by both competitive bodies.

The UKPC maintained a bustling metropolis with trade from European and North American holdings funding the economy. This half was farmed only for the inhabitants and a few reserves which were kept. The UKPC only traded financially from this planet. This was helped by the government – conveniently run by the company and thus, for the company.

The CCP had done the same. Otherwise, a population argument would have seen their holdings on the planet disappear in a few decades. The CCP, unfortunately had a smaller clout in finance and thus did began to fall behind. The colonists were poorer and less skilled with the nature of work called for in the banking world Reach had become.

For another three hundred years, the hemispheres of the planet lived on in blissful ignorance of their counterpart. Yet, at year SC (since colonization) 404, the two halves found each other. Both halves, taking advantage of the climate and the geography of the equator, had let their cities spread along a 300-kilometer band around the middle. Both halves' farming could be managed in the temperate zones and the continent in the centre – named 'Seam' by the cricketer (who saw the planet as an orbital bowl) and geologist the UKPC employed four hundred years ago and named 'Media Tierra' by the less imaginative CCP counterpart – did not break around the planet.

The Seam did cause a huge drought crisis as winds only blew slight chills – a drop of a degree every December – from North to South and it rarely rained. Rain ever occurred only because of the temperate zones, but since the planet was a little bigger and less dense than Earth, most of the other severe problems did not occur. In fact, hurricanes never did cause issues and there was scarce volcanic or seismic activity in Media Tierra.

Yet due to geography, at 404 SC, there was no room for the development race. The Ricardo proposal – under three hundred years of dust – shot up in the priorities. Both governments chose representatives and they met at the most neutral place – the North Pole. There, holed up in freezing blizzards, the delegates were given a month to form a government.

From that room came what both companies considered to be a cunning constitution – for ethical and economic reasons. The UKPC was handed over legislation and the CCP judiciary. Both sides had the power to repress the other. If they did not collaborate, the planet was doomed to fail.

The immediate result of this was an election, citizenship changes and a new tax system. Soon, by 405, a third, overseeing branch of government was made – by the people, to be fair to the companies and make sure that neither overstepped.

Social ramifications followed. The hemispheres, after centuries of competition, could not coexist. The two halves fought a social and racial war. Hate crime, protest and segregation followed for another century. The government agreed to let the mix occur slowly instead of repeating the volatile reaction performed earlier.

By 555 SC, the societies were fully integrated. The slurs and stereotypes lived on as relics and memories. The key terms – Latino and Brit – stayed, however, taking on socio-economic meanings. Latino referred to the poor as Brit referred to the rich. Other than that, the planet was a bi-racial mimicry of Earth.

Economically, the planet was quite standard – both colonizing companies kept a hold on the planet's major money while entrepreneurs dealt with the smaller concerns. The government, being extremely socialist, managed all basic necessities – food, health and education primarily. Food was the only part of life which was managed outside the Seam. In the temperate zones, islands were extremely cultivable and thus, robot plantations grew all the necessary food. This was sold by the government.

The central city, labelled Reach City, was a remarkable example of the status quo. Computers designed the tera-lopolis to optimize psychological comfort – two thirds of every cubic kilometre had to be in sunlight at all times of the planet's day. Only 5% of the city could know their true altitude at any time. The city housed 50 trillion – the structure stretched 300 kilometres wide circumnavigating the planet's 30,000 kilometre circumference and rising 800 metres everywhere. The city was, of course, a cluster of districts. Some districts – like Madrid Lejo were extremely Spanish – uprooted from terrestrial Spain. Others were uprooted from England – Greatest London being the prime example. Business took place in the lower levels and residence further up – the higher, the costlier. Transport was handled entirely by publicly owned maglev cabs and busses which operated on road-like tracks. A central computer optimized cab assignment to handle everybody's transport needs.

Petra Ral's demographic was one which demonstrated the duality between the word Latino and its true racial implication. To anybody who did not know her, Brit would have been a more suitable term. She was pale, ginger and hazel-eyed. Even her gait and composure would have confused those familiar with the planet's classes. She walked with an air of confidence and focussed calm. Unlike the stereotypical Latino, she did not hunch or relax or appear in any way lazy. She appeared energetic, upright and powerful. In fact, she could even seem dangerous when incorrectly provoked. Yet, to those who knew her or heard of her background, she was a Latino.

The illusion, however, worked to her advantage as she stepped out of the familiar La Frontera district and walked to World's End. She crossed the hemispheres with no inkling of the border she walked over. Instead of taking a maglev cab, Petra decided to walk. While walking, she reviewed her responses to the possible interview questions. Why be a secretary? She liked helping people. Why him? He'd hiring. What qualifications? Her education (she was up to college-level) and her punctuality. Did she have more? Did she need more?

On the 42nd level of the district of World's End was the UKPC office. It was a long way down, but slopping streets provided excellent views of the sprawling district. The UKPC office was in a block where its 100 metre altitude was invisible. Sun shone on the building in the afternoon during either solstice and in up until the evening on the equinox days. Today, in the morning, the sun had yet to reach. The region was in a shadow. The building tried to compensate for this. The structure was an entirely white Greek design. It looked like a Pantheon in size, colour and grandeur. Inside, however, the building fast-forwarded the millennia and looked modern. The lowest level contained classical cubicles while, on either side, two glass cubes framed in metal rose up to contain executive offices. These overlooked the cubicle field, reminiscent of the office of a factory-overseer.

In the left cube, on the third level, was the office Petra was to be interviewed in. Nerves hit her, as she had been expecting. She took the elevator up and reached the third level. She had come with fifteen minutes to spare. Hidden in the centre of the cube, Petra found a smaller cubicle field. The offices she could see from the lowest level formed the edges of the cube. The fifth office on the right was the one she was to be judged in.

Following best practice and her own guesses on her to be boss' attitudes, she knocked meekly on the door. Receiving no response, she opened the door to an empty room. She took in everything she could see. Fortunately, the window (or glass wall) faced the wall of the building. Petra would not be distracted by the lowest level's activity. The desk was bare and the two seats inside were ergonometric. There was a projector on the side, possibly for an interactive interface.

A small scoff, right behind her ear shook Petra out of her reverie. "Are you Ms. Ral?" A voice said. Petra slowly turned and extended her hand with the most confidence she could muster.

"Yes. Mr. Ackermann, right?"

"Nice to meet you." He said, not suggesting the nice in his tone in any way.

"Am I too early?"

"There's no such thing." Levi walked past Petra and entered the room. For an executive, Petra expected a taller man. She could not place much about him, but was certain he was a Brit – he did fit the class. "Come in." He said as an afterthought.

Petra stood by the chair, wondering what Brit etiquette required her to do. Did she need to ask him for permission to sit? It became too late to know as Levi sat and said after a second's scrutiny: "Do sit."

As Petra sat down, trying not to made a fool of herself before the interview and panicking about his reaction and their meeting, Levi wondered exactly who was vying to be his secretary. She seemed alright. Her application suggested a Latino background, but her presence hid it well. Her lack of enthusiasm shined from both her composure and his expectations – what kind of a person would want to be his secretary? She was ginger and hazel-eyed and short. Why did he care? – those things were irrelevant, yet they popped into his head. Well, height was a bit of a hidden criterion. Collecting his thoughts, Levi began his small spiel: "As you may know, it is odd for me to be conducting this interview, in all honesty it is barely worth my time and preparation. Yet, seeing as my past secretary was a dismal flop, you have the chance to change my conception of your occupation." Levi paused for effect. Petra was, internally, trembling – of all things, this level of hate was not an expectation; yet, she hid her fear well as Levi looked for fear and found barely any. "Now: to the interview. First things first: why do you want to be a secretary?"

"I believe that in being a secretary, I get to express my one key desire: helping people."

Levi stopped in his tracks. Her accent said it all. She was as Latino as the mayor of Madrid. "Is that it?"

"Pretty much." It was, however, subtle – in fact it only stood out due to his incorrect prejudice.

"Great. Enthusiastic of you. Now, you're a Latino, right?"

"Yes."

"Do you think that will affect you?"

"I'm hoping to count on the greater nature of the Brit culture to not let it count against me."

"Sure. Do you speak Spanish?" This would help Levi deal with some of the new business he had planned to create.

"Yes."

"I see. Why is it that you applied to be my secretary?"

"I felt that the challenge would be great as, as you have mentioned, you are a busy man, and I do like a challenge."

"Great. I'll tell you about your predecessor. She was less organized than I am and had me late for every one of her appointments. I, being the charitable soul I am, ended up more as her secretary than she was mine."

"I will not falter in that way."

"I'm most certain. She was late for her interview and babbled most repulsively throughout."

"Thank you very much." So it went well?

"You're welcome. In fact, you're welcome here tomorrow at seven."

"Thank you." Petra was overjoyed. She did not expect the prompt decision, but could not dislike the one that was made.

"I'll send out everything over the Stream. I have your ID, right?"

"PetraRal Re."

"Great. You can call me Levi in the future."

"Thanks Levi." The name was a nice one – quirky, she decided.

Petra walked out of the office. She mentally texted her father. The procedure was simple – there were government-issue implants to handle the communications. This functioned much like an old cell-phone, but with quicker, inherently intuitive controls. Her father was quick to congratulate her through text.

As she reached her residential level, the second lowest at level 66, Petra's vision filled with Levi-related data. His appointments and records came up instantly and every detail was meticulously organized by value. A note was attached to the database which fabricated. "Two things: don't touch this, read it all. I expect you to be up to speed tomorrow morning."

Petra sighed – she had gotten a little more work than she accounted for. She skimmed through the data, checking the basic structure and the content's summaries. It all seemed quite trivial – there were not many meetings, but Levi's to-do list was full. He had added a folder called "Secretary." Browsing this, Petra was welcomed by a short note: "So, you're not stupid. Figure it out." There were two types of files: notes and programs. The two included programs were a call re-direct program so that Petra could choose which callers to let through (a computer could have done this but the majority of surveys suggested that clients preferred a human touch) and a super-secure messaging program. She blinked the mess of open files away as she walked in and saw that it was lunch time.

She walked into her apartment. The interior and exterior pointed to a simple colloquialism: Latino Hut. The exterior was almost uniformly grey and bare. A few, small and obsolete windows stuck out, lighting the three rooms of the allotment. The three rooms added to this image being barely lit and minimally furnished. There were things – a few clothes in either room, a few utensils in the kitchen and few other utilities scattered about. Nothing in the flat, however, existed for pleasure or decoration.

Petra walked in and dispassionately scrubbed a pot to ensure its cleanliness. The government did not allocate cooked food for Petra's social class – the families could not afford it. Thus, Petra catalogued the contents of her fridge, improvising a Mexican salad. That, fortunately, did not tax on their minimal electricity allocation.

Petra served up this tortilla free taco as Mr. Ral entered. "How was work?" Petra asked.

"Alright. The usual bore. I hear you'll come to know tomorrow." Mr. Ral had a similar job to the one Petra had applied for. Because of Petra was young – only 18 – she was not ambitiously leaping up the social ladder. Yet, she had concrete plans to be a Brit by the end of her life.

"Yeah. It was surprisingly easy and Mr. Ackermann – he prefers Levi – is quite busy."

"So you'll be a tad entertained. It's stupid, you know, the only reason I'm not higher up is because the bloody Brits are being stupid."

"I'm pretty sure it's not just them."

"It is."

"Dad!" Petra hated her dad's prejudices and had tried her best to change his ways, but to little avail.

"Really. See the world, you'll understand."

"I will. And my understanding will prove you wrong."

"Have fun."

"I will."

Mr. Ral smirked, enjoying the mock-argument. It was funny to hear Petra agree in an angry tone. He had also said "have fun" belligerently.

Mr. Ral sat at the small table they owned – a plastic affair any richer person would have dubbed disposable. "So, what's for food?"

"¡Tacos sin tortillas, son mi creacion original!"

"Bueno." Mr. Ral tried some. "No son mal."

"Gracias."

"But actually, where did you get this stuff?"

"The fridge."

"Wow. I should check that some time."

"It contains wonders."

Mr. Ral ate slowly, relishing Petra's miracle. "So, how's this Levi guy, anyway?"

"A bit rude, but alright."

"I hope he's not stupid."

"He doesn't seem to be."

"He pompous?"

"No."

"Arrogant?"

"No." Petra knew the pattern – her father was testing his prejudices. "And he's not a prick or anything or that sort either."

"Ok. Tell me more when you get to know him better."

"Will do."

After lunch, Petra passed an interesting afternoon studying Levi's life. She learned quite quickly, and unsurprisingly, that he was a bachelor. She further found out that he was very busy – in fact, during his fourteen working hours (6 am to 8 pm) he was only free for thirty minutes and singly-booked for two hours. For the other eleven and a half hours, Levi had two or three concurrent meetings he would have had to attend. She really did have her work cut out.


	2. The First Day

Levi had decided to walk. The morning was cool – the coldest recorded of the year (a record-smashing 17 degrees Celsius). On the top level of the city, where Levi's Reach rendition of the white house looked out to the miles of city around him, the wind added to the chill. The trees did nothing to circumvent this. Blissfully ignorant in his warm suit, Levi continued to walk toward the ramp. The ramp would take him down to his work level. Levi chalked out thirty minutes for his walk: he planned to think, relax and enjoy the cool air.

"Hey Levi, do you like coffee? If you do, please let me share my allotment with you (I never use it anyway)." Came a text with a measurable chirpy tone. Petra had sent it.

"Thank you, but I would like my coffee before seven so it's alright." Levi sent. Internally, he cursed himself for forgetting to allocate time for that. He may have to walk a little faster and enjoy the cold air a little less.

"I'll be there by six."

"I thought I told you to come at seven."

"I know. I took the initiative to come early because your meetings start at six." Levi thought 'oh' so hard that it almost got texted to Petra.

"Thank you. Please bring the coffee (unless you have retracted the offer)."

"Offer still stands. See you soon!" Levi winced slightly at the chirp registered in his optic nerves. Levi sighed. He wondered what Erwin would think of his latest hire. Erwin did not particularly care, but he would have some form of reaction. Maybe Levi would buy him a coffee. Nope. Erwin would probably bring his own. It was unfortunate that Petra would have to deal with Levi after an Erwin examination. Erwin, the UKPC outer rim chief executive officer, visited Reach monthly and never failed to meet and annoy Levi – chief commercial officer of Reach – with his pedantic and patronising attitude. Levi did have a grudging respect for the man as that was all Levi aspired to be (until he got rich and complacent). Well, Erwin had always wanted Levi to open up and now with the idiot secretary – Hange – gone, Erwin would be impressed. Especially if he had a thing for short gingers.

A few levels above the office, Levi registered a new thought, one unique in its type and nature. The thought was strange. It was about a person. It was nice. It was uplifting. It was happy. In his corporate life, happiness was a little too uncommon. Yet he found it thinking of the strangest thing – his new secretary's niceness. If she were being genuine with her offer, which Levi was somehow happy to presume, it was the nicest thing somebody ever did. It was not charitable but thoughtful. It was not planned but random. It was not wanted but needed.

Levi mused about why he was thinking about the same non-client person for more than ten minutes. The word 'new' probably had to do with it – in a fortnight the thoughts would fade. By then, hopefully, Petra would fit into his life seamlessly as an extension of himself and the most useful of helpers.

Levi reached the office unperturbed by much else. He reached his normal office and found Petra at the desk outside. She had set up the projector and was jotting down notes on Erwin. "You don't have to do that much, you know."

Petra turned around. "I was bored." Levi was surprised that Petra was not surprised by his entrance and understood his statement. It was also amazingly casual – to get to this point with Hange was three month's labour.

"You got coffee?" Petra wordlessly handed him a cup. Levi tasted a little. "What did you do to this?" It was his secret fear that he would have had to drink untreated government-issued coffee: better called 'the morning piss.' The liquid he held was not this piss. It was too creamy and rich in its bitter taste.

"Put a little cream and a pinch of sugar."

"It's perfect."

"Thanks."

Levi paused to sip his brilliant beverage. "And you drink tea?"

"Yeah. Less caffeine."

"I see."

A tall blonde entered. Levi cursed inwardly. "Morning Levi, care to introduce me to your friend?"

"This is Petra, my new secretary. Petra, enjoy your misfortune of meeting Mr Smith."

"Pleased to meet you, Petra." Erwin extended his hand.

"Pleasure is all mine." Petra shook it firmly.

"How long have you replaced Hange?"

"I started this morning, actually."

"I see. Maybe that's why Levi's still not too crass."

"I hoped the coffee had something to do with it."

"You gave him coffee?" Petra nodded. "As a general trend, that worsens his mood."

"I must have been quite lucky."

"Or you guessed the sugar trick." Petra presumed Erwin referred to the prerequisite of a pinch of sugar to make the piss palatable.

"Just my luck."

"Indeed." Erwin paced across Levi's miniature anteroom and stepped into his office. "Now, Levi, I believe we have important work to do. Petra, please see to it that Levi is not disturbed at all for the next hour."

Petra scanned Levi for a reaction and registered mild annoyance. Levi, looking in her direction, gave a slight nod of agreement. "I'll see to it Mr Smith."

"Thank you. Nice meeting you."

"Same." Erwin led Levi in. Petra understood Levi's reaction – Erwin seemed to make a horribly patronising boss.

The hour drifted by with nothing of note. Petra was bored enough to research Levi's next clients. After this, another few businessmen would come to discuss matters which Petra could not know. At noon, Levi had a lunch meeting with some other institution and that was quite a distance into Brit-land. The group, known as London-Reach was a real estate firm. Petra looked into it to find that they owed the bank money from some hidden dealings. Did Levi just meet people to threaten them for loan repayments? Maybe London-Reach was an exceptional case.

At seven, Erwin exited. "Petra!" Levi called from inside. Petra entered the office. This office was not as bare as the one she was interviewed in – there were papers neatly stacked in cubby-holes everywhere except for the windowed wall which viewed the entire office.

"Yes." Petra tried not to sound flustered by her sudden calling.

"I have yet to discuss with you the terms for away meetings."

"Yes. Oh, and the seven o'clock gentleman is coming in late."

"How late?"

"He's on the maglev five minutes away."

"Asshole. The away meetings: are you willing to accompany me on any?"

"All if you need."

"Perfect. I'll need you for a few of them."

"I see." Petra paused in thought. "Pardon me for asking, but why?"

"Don't be so formal. It's either that they invite secretaries to take notes and keep everything on the same page or because I'll need your Spanish fluency."

"I see. Thank you for the opportunity."

"You're welcome."

There was a knock on the open door to Levi's office. Petra got startled and whirled around to find the knocker. There was a bald, stout man standing in the doorway. He was wearing a red sweater on a plain white shirt and black trousers. His hands returned around his belly, offering the oversized oval extra support. "Come in Mr Norman."

Petra walked out, mumbling a "I'll leave you two to it."

"New secretary?" Mr Norman asked, waddling in.

"It's her first day." Petra closed the door, smiling a little to find Levi relaxed and informal. The last thing she saw was a quiet nod from Levi, reassuringly directed at her. She was doing fine.

Petra sat back down. She sifted through Levi's active clients and saw that he was meeting many today. Interestingly, she realized that Levi only spared time for the biggest deals. Also, more interestingly, he played both the role of seller and buyer – he sold financial products all over the planet and bought everything he needed to outsource: human resources, payroll and legal management.

The next day was as busy, she saw: he had internal meetings all over the place. He also had this event he called 'innovation hour,' which Petra could not place: it seemed to be an hour for himself but it did not make sense.

At eight sharp, the next man (coincidentally Mr Mann) walked in. He was lean and wore a blue shirt with a yellow bowtie and black trousers. "Are you the new secretary?" he asked, observing Petra.

"Yes. Mr Mann I believe?" She asked, extending a hand.

"Yes. And you would be?"

"Petra."

"Just like your boss, you go by first name."

"It seemed appropriate." In reality, Petra never noticed the similarity – in fact she did not even know that Levi always went by first name. She made a mental note, in case she had to introduce Levi in the future.

"Ach! As always, you can't count on these people to be on time."

"Trust me, the other half of the planet are worse."

"I know."

The office door opened and Mr Norman walked out. Mr Mann hurried in, ignoring the lumbering Mr Norman. Petra nodded at Mr Norman, earning a "See you later."

"See you." Petra would have said "thanks for stopping by," but she knew that neither he nor Levi would be thankful that he had had to stop by.

Another boring hour later, Petra understood her dad's complaint. At nine, Levi followed Mr Mann out of his office. "Levi." Petra called for his attention.

"Yeah."

"Didn't you have the meeting at-"

"If it's marked below 40% important, I'll never show up if I'm booked."

"Oh."

"And can you come with me to the board meeting at noon?"

"Sure."

"Great. I'll be downstairs checking out the meeting – it seems to have gone overtime."

"It has. I'll tell Mr Calvert to wait, then?"

"If he's here before me. Tell him that I think he needs the UKPC trader's insurance. Sell it was well as you can."

"Ok… I'll try my best."

"Don't be too forceful. See you soon."

Petra read up on trader's insurance in as much depth as she could. It seemed to cover everything at a minimal royalty-like fee. It almost made no sense to not have it.

A few minutes later a tall, young, blonde man sauntered up. He was in a black jumper and blue jeans – definitely not of this planet. "Mr Calvert?" Petra asked.

"Yes. And you are?"

"Petra. Levi's secretary."

"I see."

"How are you finding Reach?"

"Alright. A bit too formal." He motioned at Petra's dress – a dark green satin-looking dress extending from her shoulders to a few inches under her knees. On top of it, to avoid rudely displaying her shoulders, Petra had a black cardigan hanging loosely around the dress, ending by her waist.

"I see. We're a little like that."

"A little? You should see the new planets – they're trying to get rid of all clothing."

"What?"

"I know!"

"As a trader, you must see so much."

"Not really. You hear about things, but you generally don't get the time to see for yourself. Take this planet, for instance, I've only seen the spaceport and this block in any detail."

"I understand. It's kind of like passing by things on the maglev."

"Precisely."

"So, what brings you to Reach?"

"Passengers."

"Wow. How does that work out?"

"Passengers? They're annoying. Too much to worry about and too much they worry about."

"But you'll have to carry passengers out of here?"

"Unfortunately."

"What do they worry about?"

"Dying, space piracy, ship malfunctions… I don't even know."

"How do you alleviate the concerns?"

"I'm trying through marketing."

"What if you guys used rentals?"

"What do you mean?"

"So each of the passengers contributes evenly to buy the ship and the crew and then whenever they want, they sell the ship back to the company."

Calvert stopped to think. It was all he could do. He just was taught about how to run his business by a secretary – a lowly, unimportant freaking secretary! The idea seemed brilliant. He could insure against so many things and alleviate so many of the issues pressing the company. The board would jump at this! "That sounds brilliant – perfect." He began saying. "I – wow."

"It's just a fancy of mine."

"No. It's brilliant, it's the business model of my company now. It's simply a great idea." He paused. "To think I was here to get insurance."

"I'm pretty sure we would be useful for the idea in some way." Petra flinched at her use of the 'royal we,' speaking for the entire company she had joined the day before.

"No offense, but I wonder how."

"Ship pricing for one, I think." Petra searched the products the UKPC offered. "And you'd want to insure yourselves from fraud and ship losses."

"True. I don't even know what I'll talk to Levi about."

"Anything official or concrete, I'd think – I'm just a secretary."

"I hope I don't have to wait much longer."

"Sorry about that."

"It's fine. If it weren't for the wait, I wouldn't have gotten to talk to you."

"Thank you."

"Thank you."

"Here he comes." Petra said, pointing at the corridor. Levi came around the corner and walked up.

"Mr. Calvert, I am sorry to be so late – the meeting just couldn't end. Please come in and have a seat." Levi said, quickly to avoid losing more time.

"It's quite alright. I have a few propositions to discuss with you - thanks to the delay, actually."

Petra relaxed and observed that Levi was fifteen minutes late. Mr Calvert himself was five minutes late, meaning that their talk was probably less than ten minutes. Was her idea really that great?

Forty minutes of anxious waiting, punctuated by nervous time-checks and even more nervous studies of the UKPC's structure, passed by. Mr Calvert exited quickly, with an additional skip in his step.

Levi walked out and smiled. For the first time, Petra saw him smile. "Thank you so much for that!"

"You're welcome." Petra replied, flustered and feeling unimaginably accomplished.

"It's amazing! How did you do that?"

"It just came up in talking."

"That just came up in a chat? That? Christ, Petra! If that's what you do in a chat on your first day, I should hire you as a sales person or something. Jesus!"

"Really, I didn't know what I was talking about." Petra did not understand how praise was being heaped onto her – she did just make a random comment. She guessed that that was the world of sales she had just entered. If so, she was going to do very well.

"And if you did, you'd have gotten us tonnes more! Well done! Keep it up."

Petra was instantly scared. "Keep it up…?"

"Yeah. Just be yourself – you're doing fine."

"Don't expect me to make that happen again."

"Of course. It'll happen when it does. It's just that you're capable of making it happen. God! If I knew this was coming, I'd have fired Hange years ago." Levi sighed, bringing himself down to Earth (or level 42 of Reach).

"Thank you very much."

"You're welcome." The joy had drained from Levi.

"Are all your emotions in outbursts?"

"No, that was strange for me."

"Oh. It's alright if you don't put up an act for me."

"Thanks."

"It doesn't fit you."

"You've only known me for a few hours – minutes in terms of actual interaction."

"And? It was obviously exaggerated."

"Tch. Whatever, you're making my life easier anyway."

"What did happen?"

"We got a deal with the entire company to insure their ships and trade and value everything in their fleet. We also might get their accounting if it gets too hectic for them."

"Cool."

"Very cool. We have to leave now for the meeting at noon. I've called a maglev."

"Ok." They walked to the elevators. In the empty box which presented itself, they continued their conversation.

"I've had it pick up my lunch allotment – it has enough for the two of us."

"Really?"

"Believe me – it's too much for one person."

"Wow." Levi remembered too late that Petra was not as entitled as he was. She did deserve the same, though.

"I'll be taking calls during the ride, so shut up and sit, ok?"

"Voice calls?"

"No, but I'll need to focus."

"Ok."

They exited the building to find a maglev with 'Levi' on the indicator. Levi had reserved the ellipsoid maglev for himself, meaning it could not stop for anybody until Levi was dropped off. The interior was the same for any maglev: five blue cushioned seats facing each other with poles on either end and foldable arm-rests in between each seat. The roof had ads crammed in few spaces. Saving the white floor of the car and a few supporting white pillars, variable-opacity glass offered panoramic views of the surroundings. The correct window – the nearest – opened to let Levi and Petra in. A storage compartment in the floor opened, unravelling a white table. Another opened to serve lunch using a robotic arm.

Lunch was a lasagne, fully cooked and well-plated. Petra could not help but gape – not only was the food too much in quantity but too much in quality. Petra normally got a sandwich if she did not opt for raw ingredients. Furthermore, she got only half the amount.

Eating with pleasure, relishing her amazing free food, Petra did not notice the maglev's movement. By the time she put her fork down, they were underground.

"Tell me if I do anything you don't want me to." Petra said. She reclined on one side of the car, ensuring that security was on in case she needed it for any reason.

"Just shush."

Petra read on topics as the car whizzed on its course. She sat quietly, glancing at Levi at leisure to find him busy on a call, eyes distant within the conversation or levelled at her in thought. Black eyes, matching the short hair, she decided. Everything about him was either black or white.


	3. Prejudice

"Listen, Petra, they would prefer a secretary, but you do not have to come for this."

The first quarter of a year as Levi's secretary had gone by in a flash. Surpassing many people's expectations, Petra stayed on and prospered with Levi. Off all things, nobody foresaw a positive, happy relationship between her and Levi. Nobody truly knew Petra, but everybody knew Levi – his repellent reputation preceded him far. Somehow this repugnance did not bother Petra, in fact she seemed drawn to him in a way. Nobody knew about feelings or anything of that sort – Levi and Petra did not either, but it was evident that Petra did not mind Levi and seemed to cultivate his presence.

Petra thought of Levi as a good friend. Anything else felt wrong at this point – there was no way either of them would want to be anything but friends. Levi felt the same. He was happy that he had a good friend – a first in the new decade.

"Seriously. I told you I'm coming." This was not Levi's first 'hinted' warning.

Levi sighed. "I told you that they would be rude and pick on you."

"And? I survived Latino high school, I can handle them."

"Fine. Don't complaint to me."

"Ok. But I'm coming."

"Don't complaint."

"I won't." Petra was slightly disconcerted at Levi's concerned. "Just one thing: are you ashamed to have me as your secretary?"

"How could you – no, of course not, Petra." Levi sighed once more. "Alright, we've got to leave now."

"Ok. Vamos."

Levi set off with a: "Don't speak Spanish in front of them, please."

"No worries."

They entered a maglev. The ride was set for ten hours and the meeting would span a day. It was a UKPC board meeting where the Earth board had come to Reach to meet everybody important. After a grand total of two days, Levi and Petra would return to their normal lives.

On the ride to, Levi and Petra conversed since both were considered fully booked for the two days. "What did you do before you joined us?" Levi asked.

"Shop keeping."

"Really?"

"Yeah, at some shitty Latino antique place." Levi nodded in understanding. "You?"

"I was…" Levi pondered over whether to tell Petra and quickly decided to for the sake of friendship and conversation. "I was an orphan when Erwin found me. He got me to join and then I rose the corporate ladder."

"But you're 25, right?"

"Yes. I rose quickly, as you probably would."

"Not yet."

"Are you ever going to try?"

"Once I'm 20."

"Why wait?"

"Dad insists – see the world before getting stuck to things. Of course, then, consistent with that, he gets me a job as a secretary."

"Nice." Levi was a little surprised at Petra's resentment, but understood it too well.

Petra grinned at the sarcasm. "I don't mind the job – with you it's fun – but, I don't like how I ended up here, you know?"

Levi nodded, getting over the 'with you it's fun.' She enjoyed his presence? He could not quite bring himself to believe it – she had had fun with him. Fun?

"How do you find your job?" Petra asked after a minute.

"It's fine. Hard to enjoy with all the idiots, but I find the fun."

"The fun? What's that?"

"Selling things."

"You like sales? Doesn't that require talking to people?"

"It's not the talking I hate, it's the people."

"Ok then."

"No really, I am quite a talkative person."

"Sure, but then why not give speeches or something? Why bother having to react to people?"

"Speeches etcetera have too much press crap."

"I see."

"What do you want to do?"

"Honestly? I don't know. Maybe pilot a spaceship or something."

"You should figure it out quickly."

"I am trying."

"Really?"

"In my free time."

Levi smirked. "Free time?"

"Yeah, like when you're in a meeting that I've studied already or on rides like this."

"Am I impugning?"

"Not at all. You're more interesting than 90% of the articles on how crashing into asteroids is bad."

"Is that what they write about?"

"Or bitchy laws or the newest tech. There's some geeky crap."

"And you want to join that?"

"I don't know. I want to be a captain to see the galaxy, not to geek out about ships."

"Unfortunate – a true idealist."

"Naïve as they come."

"You'll learn – you're not retarded."

"Thanks." Petra was not sure how much sarcasm was needed in her reply – she did think that that was a genuine Levi compliment, but it did not seem to be direct. She kept her tone blank.

The ride resumed in a companionable silence. Petra reclined on her side and began to nod off to her music. Levi looked at her wondering about serenity and how the naïve appeared to attain it too easily. She seemed calm, secure in some providence which would lead her to a good future. She seemed carefree, sure in some good fortune which would help her when she needed. He wished he could attain this Nirvana of sorts. He was insecure, certain he would face hardship. He was worried, convinced he would be troubled.

"What about love?" Levi's slip was Freudian but Petra's was physical.

Regaining her balance and fixing her posture, looked at Levi, reading his face. He seemed concerned about something – deeply concerned. "Ignore me." He said, attempting to patch up his broken filter.

"Relax. If it's really bothering you, tell me."

"It's just that I've never had a crush or anything."

"Not even a fantasy or desire?"

"No. Just no real crushes or true love."

"So what? Maybe you're waiting for the right girl." Petra paused. "Or guy."

"Girl."

"Well, maybe you're waiting."

"What about you? Is there a special guy?"

"I had crushes before. They were all stupid. By the time I would work up the courage to ask them (they'd never settle for a nerd like me), they would do something stupid – a knife-fight or a drug arrest or some crap."

"Wow."

"Besides, they normally just wanted to fuck – no commitments or anything."

"And you…?"

"Hated that. God! Levi, what kind of a slut do you take me for? You know, a girl for herself pregnant once. She was disowned but the guy got off scot-free."

"Adela A-something… right?"

"Alba."

"Everywhere the poor seem to be the worst."

"Aww, thanks."

"Seriously – they have the most sexism, violence and abuse." Levi was pointing at socioeconomic truth, but Petra didn't like him pointing it out at all.

"It is what it is."

"You know, you've done very well."

"How so?"

"Standing on the edge of the cliff but not falling in."

"It's not hard once you get used to it."

"No way."

"Well, you have to be a bit of a reject. Adela was like that too you know, we were friends for a while."

"Damn."

"She was cool."

"Was?"

"She was killed by some gang – the conformity police."

"They actually called themselves that?"

"No, I do. They're called 'Los Tradicionalistos.'"

"Oh… the traditionalists? How they try to romanticize it."

"Vamos a proteger nuestro cultura. Mata los perdidos. Almost the Spanish Inquisition all over again."

"Brits have that too."

"I think everybody does – you just hate the ones that bind you or you hate the others because you love the blindfolds."

"I'd hate them all."

"I'm probably the same."

"Why did I even tell you that?"

"Because we spend so much time together."

"But I'm your boss."

"I think we can be friends most of the time."

"But… Doesn't that bias me?"

"Against what, the others in the long line of secretaries asking for a job?"

"Tch. Fine."

"Yay! We can be friends!"

"The miracle."

"But actually, how many friends do you have?"

"Have had three."

"Have had?"

"Long story."

"Longer ride."

"Screw you." Levi began, grudgingly, to narrate his life. For the first time, in full colour, Levi talked about the orphanage – the measly meals and demanding discipline. Levi talked about his many attempted escapes and many more punishments, his old friends and older enemies, his victories and larger defeats. He continued with a: "And then, Erwin found me." This story shifted, colours grew brighter – from the black-and-white orphanage, the land of the UKPC was in full colour, as Kansas was to Oz in that classical movie. There was progress, change and a climb. He talked about his friends from the company and how they disappeared out of his life due to the way of the world. They moved to other jobs, newer planets and posts in competing cooperations. "And you?" He concluded.

"Simple: I was a kid. I went through school and then graduated. This whole time, after 12, I worked part-time at the store. Then I came here."

"Detail."

Petra fleshed out her life with the details – the courses she took and the social group meetings she attended to fulfil the government quota. She described the misery, the poverty and failure, she had had to see to leave La Frontera. She talked about her father, the hardworking old man who remembered his grandfather's tales of a once prosperous Ral dynasty. Her family collapsed with a bad generation – a decadent lot of gambling drunkards to whom poverty was so fake, they did not see it when they formed a part of it. According to her, "if it weren't for those idiots, I'd be kicking your ass right now."

"If it weren't for Erwin, my ass would be getting kicked anyway." Levi replied. "Continue."

Petra resumed. She talked about annoying high school courses and how individual pacing was the reason she stood a chance. By the time she was sixteen, she got two years of education more than most of her classmates. Then, she reached the present day.

After that, conversation occurred in sporadic bursts. They spent most of the time quiet, glancing at each other to see if they were both fine.

After eight more hours, the maglev stopped. They had arrived at the Greatest London Exchange. The Exchange, 'el ladron' to the other hemisphere, was a huge black metal box. It looked as if God threw one of his webservers at Reach City and that colossal computer landed here. The building was a black hole, sucking in all attention and thousands of people and billions of all currencies. It was the heart of a galaxy's trade, its image flattering the heart of the galaxy itself.

Inside was the diametric opposite. It was as if, crossing the singularity, the walker had reached heaven. The white floors were dizzyingly reflective and it was proven that at a certain angle, shone from the front door, a laser pointer could bounce of every single wall – a fact used heavily throughout the building's security system. Everything was so reflective that the interior designers left the walls completely bare. The walls remained that way, making every non-ventilating-duct square millimetre of the wall the same marble material. Windows did not have the grace to break the perfect pattern.

40 floors up was the UKPC board room. This room was a massive auditorium. On each of the 26 levels was a terrace broad enough for an entire table of nine. The levels arched with various lengths – the A level being the lowest with 3 tables and Z level hosting 55. Above all this was a stage. The stage had seats for all of the 24 board members and a pulpit for the CEO.

Levi and Petra had earned seats at a level B table – the middle one. Their surroundings consisted of seven executives from other planets – all of Levi's level. Beyond level B were invitees – stockholders, the press and employees of the year.

Petra shuddered at the degree of prosperity she was wrapped in. Levi might have been right. They sat down and introductions stretched all around. Petra did not get more comfortable. Everybody around her had never seemed to meet a non-British human, much less know how to deal with one. She accent, mild and unnoticeable to any Reach citizen, stood out and practically walked around the hall, shining a spotlight on the different one.

While at first malice was hidden, the people seemed to pick up more and more of the hints that Petra was not one of them. The other secretaries were also either hired through nepotism or wealth. Petra was letting Levi down. Once people realized that Petra was a foreigner, they seemed to hold it against her. Their words grew unnecessarily and they paused to ensure Petra was following (which, fortunately, she always had been without the pauses). Their looks grew less approving of her and Levi and they stepped away to avoid association.

By the end of the day, Petra was spent. She did not understand how she had not punched at least one of the people she had met. She was proud of that fact, but ashamed of everything else. Her life was torn at. Her family was insulted (subtly, but she knew). Her accent was mocked. Her intellect was belittled.

Inside the relative safety of the maglev, Petra sat next to Levi. Levi noted that this was a first, but conceded that this was the first time he saw Petra nearly in tears. As the car set off, Petra slumped onto Levi. "Sorry, I shouldn't have come."

Levi was at a loss for everything – words, motion and body language. He pitied Petra but knew she did not want that. And this was the first time anybody – not to mention one of the opposite sex – had leaned on him. She sobbed, bringing Levi back to reality. He wrapped an arm around her and leaned back a little. He sighed and replied: "It's them, not you."

"But Levi they looked down on you because of me."

"That's because they're stupid."

"You can't let me do that."

"I will."

"Wha-"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do."

"I can't let myself do that to you."

"You can't let them do that to yourself."

"What?"

"You can't let them make you look down on yourself."

"But it's unfair to you."

"So? I'm willing to accept it."

"Why?"

"Because I…" He was truly at a loss for words. He did not love her or like her in any special way. He did not have a logical reason to keep her. "Because I am too lazy to change my secretary."

"Why don't I do it for you?"

"Bullshit." He did give her bullshit as well. "It's because I like you as my secretary." Levi paused. "And friend."

"But – "

"And what those faggots think about me does not matter anyway."

"Fine." Petra was still on his shoulder. "You don't mind, do you?"

"It's fine."

"Good." She relaxed on his shoulder. "You know what? Who cares what they think anyway?"

"Precisely."

"Thanks."

Petra felt something on her upper left arm. It jabbed lightly, pressing softly into her skin. She mumbled and wondered what the object was. The jabbing thing seemed to stretch around her back and it felt like fingertips. Her head was at an angle. She moved to change it moving upright. The jabbing stopped and she opened her eyes. Buildings were flashing past. She was in La Frontera according to her nanotech.

"Morning."

"God be good." She recognized the voice. She could feel clothes on her, so the situation was not the worst. She turned to see black eyes staring into her. "I… I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…" She got flustered quickly.

"It's alright. I feel asleep as well."

"You should have woken me up or something, I –"

"Chill. It's no big deal – plus, your hair's quite comfortable."

"Thanks."

"Oh, and I rerouted us – we took a quicker route and its morning."

"How much time till work?"

"An hour and a half. We'll be at yours in ten."

"Great. Thank you."

"And, next time, I won't let you off."

"You shouldn't have this time."

"It's fine – I was too tired." And creepily comfortable. His restrained, unresolved love issues were resurfacing in the most annoying way. She's your secretary, for God's sake! He tried to snap himself out of it, but he failed – he more he thought of it the better Petra had felt against his shoulder.

"Really, now?"

"Whatever."

"Do you… like me?"

"No."

"Fine." Petra began to wonder, though, because the 'no' somehow felt bad. She felt rejected. For what? They were merely friends. She realized she wanted a little more. How much more was yet to be ascertained.

The car stopped. "See you in a bit." Petra said, alighting at her stop.

"See you." Came a reply.

As Petra got ready for work, she began to wonder how she actually felt. She had a sense that they would be a great team and on occasion dared to guess at the wonderful couple they could make. She did allow herself a lot more contact than she ever did before.

She concluded that she had insufficient data and that the upcoming day would be interesting data-gathering.


	4. Los Tradicionalistas

Petra had spent the day gathering the required data. In a manner she could only hope to be scientific, she had concluded that she was in love. The evidence she had seemed sufficient: her heart rate seemed to spike around him, she tried a little harder to be perfect and she cared about him a little too much. Unlike the many crushes she suffered, she felt warm about liking Levi – there were no regrets or causes for concerns. He would not get arrested in the foreseeable future. She couldn't quite believe how comfortable his shoulder was.

Petra ambled around a corner. She had entered La Frontera – as graffiti welcomed: "Has volvido al lado major." Musing on that scribble's incorrectness (the Spanish side was the worse side from Petra's perspective), Petra walked past a shuttered white store. Everything about the store seemed decrepit – from the stained walls to the crammed apartment above. "Lado major," she thought, smirking.

"¡Oye!" There was a call from the neighbouring alley. The alley contained a dumpster and locked doors leading to the residences above.

"¿Que quire?" Petra called into the alley.

"¡Venga!" Petra came in slowly, as invited. She paced around the dumpster, wrinkling her nose at the pungent odour.

Suddenly, as she glanced about for the source of the calls, an arm wrapped around her neck. It had the girth of a python and felt like a stick. Behind her was a wall of a man, repressing her. Another two men emerged from the end of the alley.

"Ok. As an insult to you, we'll conduct this in English." One of the men hissed.

Petra would've laughed at that comment if it weren't for her present near-hanging and entrapment. "You lot traditionalists?" She spluttered.

"Yes. And you are our victim tonight." Petra's face whitened. Anything bad could happen – it was unlikely she would survive.

"What do you want?" She managed an even tone even though she did not really want the answer.

"We want you to spy on your boss."

"What?"

"Mr Ackermann – we want all his data and everything he will do." Did the CCP have some secret plans? Petra wondered – there had always been rumoured ties between the CCP and Los Tradicionalistas.

"Never." Petra did not want to betray Levi in that way.

"Why?"

"Because I don't betray friends."

"Friend. Is that what you call him?"

"Yes."

"He pay you well for the nights, or something?" Petra was too shocked to reply. "Or is there a bigger agreement, some gun he has pointed at you?"

"No. He's my friend and I am not betraying him."

"Yes you will."

"No." Petra was not sure where the resolve came from – it was a repulsion towards these guys and her attraction to Levi collaborating to make her firm in her stance.

"You will or you may die."

"May?"

"Well, killing you outright would cause too much commotion."

"So you can't kill me."

"Trust me, Ms Ral, there are fates worse than death."

"No." The speaker nodded. The brute behind Petra let her go with a push. Petra staggered further into the alley and was met with a well-aimed kick to her side. She fell to the ground. The third man began to kick her to the joy of the other two. Was this some initiation? Kicking the crap out of some innocent seemed to fit that role.

"Convinced?" The first man asked.

"No."

"You must really, truly like this man." She got another kick and coughed up blood. "Traitor."

"Says you." Petra earned another kick.

"Plan on marrying him?"

"Fuck off."

"You know what? Let's make it so that you can't show the world, shall we?"

"The fuck?"

The man reached over and picked up Petra's left hand. He held the ring finger. "You understand, dumbass?"

"Fuck you."

"You would, Brit whore!" The man took the finger almost gently. Out of the pocket on his rugged jeans, he pulled out a knife. He flicked a switch, activating an electron field around the blade, heating it up. He held it to her finger, letting her feel the heat. "Spy on him."

"Never." With that breath, Petra screamed. The knife effortlessly sliced the finger off. The wound was cauterized by the heat, leaving Petra gasping in pain.

"Did you change your mind?"

Petra groaned and then remembered that she could call for help. She sent out a general call. A second later, Levi responded: "What the fuck?"

"Just help." She sent, with a high pain register alongside.

"Coming." Levi replied in a soothing tone. She sighed, feeling a fleeting calm. Then came a kick. "I asked you a question!"

"I will not change your mind."

"Then we will do it for you." The brute handed the man a syringe. The man and the brute pinned Petra down. The man placed the syringe into Petra's neck. "See you in a day." They let her go and vanished into the dark alley.

Petra groaned again. She got up, unsure of what to except from the injection. She limped, looking at her missing finger. Suddenly, a low voice was audible in the back of her mind. It was ethereal and seemed omnipresent. "Spy!" It seemed to say.

Petra whirled in a circle to find the source of the sound. She had limped to the street and could not locate it. There were no speakers or people to produce this voice. Chemicals! The injection must have been the cause. The voice grew louder with time. Petra grew anxious of what more this menace could produce.

Suddenly, the gang members reappeared, except that they carried weapons and threatened her from afar. "It's just the chemicals." Petra whispered to herself. Her head was pounding and she could not ascertain whether the pain was physical or some emotional issue. She was beginning to panic. She could feel the slow loss of control, the inevitable transfer from rationality to animalistic instinct.

She messaged Levi. He was on his way – the maglev which rounded the corner must have been him. She limped towards it. Her world began to spin. "It only gets worse!" hammered her senses. She was losing her balanced according to her brain. She closed her eyes. The world was still spinning, but not moving in detail as she staggered forward. It was her imagination! It couldn't handle all the detail, but it was trying to convince her of a false reality. "It's just the chemicals." She repeated over and over, leaning against a wall. She fought to keep from panicking.

She was carried – she could feel it. At first, the chemicals tried to convince her that she was getting kidnapped. Then she opened her eyes to find Levi holding her up – bridal style – and moving towards a maglev. "They put something in me." She whimpered as closely to coherent communication as she could manage.

"Relax." The maglev moved as soon as Levi spoke. Petra was out of breath, fighting an internal battle. Levi knew immediately that she had been attacked psychologically. He tried to help her, reassuringly (he hoped) stroking her hair, softly lying that he knew she would be fine. She sobbed every so often, cried out less frequently.

At his house, Levi carried Petra to the medical bed. This, top of its line, was Erwin's recommendation and could handle every feasible medical need of an executive officer – especially the illegal ones Petra seemed to have faced.

The bed began its work quickly. Nano-bots stitched up Petra's bruises and helped her ring finger's stump. A neural link diagnosed the problem and attacked the injection's chemicals.

Within fifteen minutes, Petra appeared normal. She got up from the bed feeling a little sore from the treatments and walked to what she presumed was the living room. As she did, the fact that the house was Levi's began to settle in. It was big. The medical room itself was half the size of Petra's house. The corridor she walked could have been wrapped around her property. The decorations were more expensive than what her dad earned for the last five years.

"How do you feel?" Levi asked as Petra emerged into the living room.

Pausing to take the entire space in, Petra replied: "fine."

"Good."

"Thank you Levi."

"It was seriously nothing."

"But still, thanks."

"Fancy dinner?"

"You don't mind?"

"I was going to ask you under better circumstances anyway." Levi said, exiting to the kitchen.

Petra's eyes wandered the hall as she took in his meaning. He was going to ask her? As a friend or something more? Did he like her? Her eyes stopped on a small painting. She would have walked up to see it, but did not feel up to it. She would have to ask Levi about in. It was a painting of the infamous alleyway where she was attacked. It seemed to be made up of the word "spy" repeated over and over in various colours and fonts. It was marvellous art and even more marvellous coincidence. Had the chemicals truly left her brain?

Levi re-entered. "What is that painting?" Petra asked.

"The horse?"

"Next to it."

"A factory."

"Really?"

"I don't know what factory or why, but it's a factory."

"I don't see that."

"You what?"

"The chemicals in my brain, what were they?" Petra was getting concerned.

"Ask the med-bed." Levi calmly served, hoping he had reason to be calm.

Petra read. "Can you ask it as well? I think I have let it tell you."

Levi read. "Schizophrenia inducing steroids. Cause worsening symptoms until victim is coerced to do something. Cannot undo any effects through any known treatment. If stopped within the first few hours, effects may (in rare cases) not require professional attention."

"Shit."

"What?"

"I'm still affected."

"What?"

"You see the painting of the factory? I see the alleyway I got beaten up in. You read that? I read that I would die."

"Fuck."

"Sorry, but I guess dinner should be off." Petra stood up.

Levi followed suit, to Petra's surprise. "God knows what will happen to you alone. Let's go to the nearest mental hospital."

"Thank you." Petra paused. "Levi, can you read more. I'm not sure whether any of this is actually happening."

Levi sighed. This was one of those creepy movies about dreams and unreal realities breaching his life. "It only causes you panic. If it's good, it's got to be real."

"That's wonderful."

"Really is." A maglev appeared and they set off.

"You know what?" Petra began.

"What?"

"Well, now they're two things." Petra lifted her left hand.

"Fucking shit!" Levi noticed the missing finger. "What's the other thing?"

"I see the gang members in here, next to you."

"They're not real."

"Of course not."

There was a pause. If Petra was badly affected – which she seemed to be – it would be the end of her. There would be no career chances for her, nobody who would make a family with her (or even get to know her). Levi felt a tinge of pity. "Sorry it had to happen to you. Don't expect me to-"

"Shut up. If what I know about schizophrenia is true, then I haven't even gotten it – barely. I can handle it. I mean, there's this brutish, hulking gang member with his arm around your neck as I see it. There's a skinny guy to your left holding the knife which did this," she indicated her finger, "hovering over your heart." Petra sighed. "I mean, really, I can handle this."

"What?!" Levi irrationally looked around himself.

"They're fake, idiot." Petra could not hold back her laughter. "It gets easier."

"But how?"

"Well, I'm convinced they're fake because you don't notice them. Plus, I've imaginarily told them that."

"Told them?"

"Well, I wouldn't do it out loud, now would I?"

"But you should completely ignore them."

"That's pretty much impossible."

"Oh well, you're doing very well."

"Thank you." Petra gasped and yelled out a "No!" Levi looked up. Petra caught her breath. "Sorry, they got a bit too convincing for a second."

"Relax." Levi thought for a bit – he couldn't expect her to magically relax. "Tell me anything you see and don't like. I'll help you with it as much as I can."

"Thanks." Petra paused for a few minutes as she brought her father up to speed. "My dad will be there soon."

"Good for you."

"You're working tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah. I'll just drop you off, if you don't mind."

"Really, you've done more than enough already. Thank you."

The maglev slowed to a stop and Levi and Petra alighted. Diagnosis, help and knowledge awaited.


	5. A Ward

The psychologist the maglev found had been informed of the arriving patient earlier. Dr Grisha Jaeger was unoccupied before this, much like most nights. There were not many cases in the region – many were killed before they arrived because nobody could afford the treatments. Yet Jaeger had hope for the area. These patients, like most of those who made it, had come from afar. The patient was a first – her assailant was not hereditary, but military grade. Furthermore, she was in better condition than most with her symptoms. Petra Ral. He swirled the name around in his mind. Pity another nice name did not have a nice brain.

The maglev arrived. The clinic was empty and clean as always, Dr Grisha was happy to have the cleanliness and poor to afford the emptiness.

A young lady, matching the sent image, walked in quickly. Behind her, in an equally serious pace, was the young dark-haired man who was expected to be with her.

"Dr Jaeger?" She said.

"What's the rush?"

"I want to get this done with." It was a welcome contrast from the average kicking and screaming patient. "So what's the deal?"

"I don't know exactly. You'll have to explain your symptoms and we'll proceed."

"Great." Dr Jaeger led the way to his office, happy that he was being followed by the patient's will.

The doctor entered his bare office. Besides two stacks of papers – the deceased and the living – his desk was empty and the white walls around carried only two photos and a bookshelf with psychology books all the way from Freud's time.

Contrasting the nearly uniform white was a red vase and green stem.

Dr Grisha sat down behind the desk and sighed. "All right, firstly, you're doing better than most of the cases seeing as you've come here of your own will."

"Thank you. I understand my case is unique and not extraordinarily serious."

"Yes. I hope you understand that other than alleviate the worst of the hallucinations, there is nothing we can do for you."

"What exactly is the worst?"

"When the chemical was in you and worsening your state."

"I had a dizzy spell and was hallucinating badly."

"Yes. You can fortunately expect that to be the worst."

"Fortunately? I couldn't even walk."

"At least we know how much to expect – with the natural counterpart we can never be sure."

"I see. I've read that there's a limit to the hallucinations as well."

Dr Jaeger smiled – this Petra was an absolute delight. "Yes, your symptoms will only make you paranoid."

"Perfect." Petra paused, searching for the phrasing: "Then – and I mean no offense, how exactly can you help."

"Now that the central system has been made aware, it will be easier to treat you in an emergency."

"Otherwise?"

"We recommend that you stay for 24 hours in case of anything."

"Great."

"Am I to expect your father?"

"Yes."

"Ok."

Levi moved from his position at the door frame. "See you tomorrow."

"Thanks."

"Who is he?"

"My friend. Well, technically boss."

Levi couldn't sleep. He had expected to unexpectedly drown in worry. It was a strange habit he had had with Petra. He would worry about the stupidest things – even the meeting they had just returned from. Not to mention the whole thing with the shoulder. How did he let that happen? What did it mean? He was quite certain, especially after the online research he did and anonymous survey he conducted, that friends did not sleep on each other. And after that, both had admitted to liking it. Was he falling for her? Had he fallen? And now, with her handicap, he was hanging off a cliff. What if she had to leave his life? What about her life and imminent lack thereof? She was so young! 18 and wrecked! And she was beautiful – the way she was already taking this in her stride. She did not seem affected at all. It was beautiful how she recovered already. She was beautiful. And he was definitely not in love with her.

Or so he thought. The next day he had to suffer through began to convince him otherwise. Firstly, there was the fact of a day without the perfect secretary he was used to. Meetings suddenly were not these automatic necessities but complex events with a time and place. The people who walked in were more impatient, untouched by Petra's light conversation. The people invariably asked where the secretary was. That emphasized the second fact. Now that he was not assured of her presence just outside his office, he began to worry. What was she doing? How did she cope with the boredom? Her texts helped a little but where nothing compared to her presence. What if she had another attack? What would she do? Who would help? Would they listen through her fantastical imaginings?

At eight, when Petra was due to be released, Levi arrived at the clinic. He was directed to Petra's room where he met Mr. Ral. Mr. Ral was standing by the door as Petra reclined in the clinic's bed.

"So you are Levi. Pleasure to meet you and thank you for taking care of my daughter." Mr. Ral started conversation.

"You're welcome."

Petra detected the iciness in the interaction. Levi was just being Levi and her dad was being racist. "Guys, I want to tell you two something. Dad, for you it's less of a big deal, I guess."

Both men nodded Petra on. A similar nod, she mused. "The thing is that since I cannot be sure about what's real, I have to ask you guys about things. I've already done this, but I ought to tell you guys." She got into a sitting position. "I need to know I can trust you with it. Lying about these things to me can and probably would destroy me – I mean it."

"I get it honey but-" Mr Ral nodded towards Levi.

"Yes him as well. Do I have that from you, Levi?"

Levi thought for barely a millisecond. "Yes." He would help her – definitely.

"Can I have a word with my daughter?" Mr. Ral rhetorically asked Levi.

"Sure." Levi replied testily. He walked down the corridor to be greeted by the doctor who complimented Petra further. Levi was even more secure in a decision he had subconsciously made.

"What, dad? I know you don't like it, but he's the one I have to trust during work."

"So? You didn't need to tell him."

"I think he deserved to know."

"But Petra – "

"But what, you don't even know him!"

"He's a Brit. I'm happy not to know him."

"He's a nice guy, I'm sad you don't know him."

"I don't care – I don't trust him."

"Give me a rational reason to mistrust him."

"You don't know him."

"I do. I know more about him than anybody else – that's why I'm here."

"Fine. Don't tell me I didn't warn you."

"I won't have to." Petra got off the bed. "It's been a day, let's go home."

The doctor picked up his fee and the Rals began to leave. "Petra!" Levi called. Petra gestured him to follow. Unfortunately that entailed being with Mr Ral, thus his plan was foiled. "Just come to work fifteen minutes early tomorrow, ok? There's a lot to catch up on."

"Oh yeah, I forgot you actually have work." Mr. Ral said as Levi caught a maglev car.

"All the more reason he's a nice guy dad."

"Jesus, Petra, will I ever hear the end of this?"

"Not if it goes the way I want it to."

"You – what?" The meaning of what she said registered with all the possible implications. "Do you want to… stay with him?"

"I love him, dad."

"Fuck no." Mr. Ral couldn't help himself – it was doomed, there was no saving it.

"Yes."

"It's a hallucination. You're paranoid about worrying me."

"No. I loved him before this crap."

"No way. There's no way it will work."

"It can, I'll try – I'll make it."

"No. You're just an ant to those people. They'll crush you whenever they feel like."

"Not him."

"You wish."

"I know."

"Petra, you're being naïve – he will crush you."

"I hope he crushes on me."

"I hope you learn."

"It's not like I can help it."

"Yes it is. Self-control and patience – it'll fade one day."

"I won't let it. We deserve more than that."

"Really? Deserve? You think he deserves you?"

"I think we both deserve a shot at true love!"

Mr. Ral sighed. "You're too young."

"Then I'll wait for him."

"No way."

"Let me learn it the hard way."

"Just none of that suicide crap."

"Trust me, with regards to that, you've fuelled the dark side enough."

"What?"

"It seems my paranoia is overflowing into my rationality."

"Did I just…?"

"No. I have worried about everything you have suggested – to the point where I've imagined being left pregnant and heartbroken by Levi." That was a terrible attack, but Petra won through calmly reciting her latest mantra: "it's just the insecurity." Life was hard as now she could not have faith in anything, her 'dark side' corroded all.

"Tell me if I go too far."

"I can manage." Petra barely managed. Three times during the night, a gang member repeated her father's words. She got dizzy and almost cried out. She had had to reassure herself through Levi – his small smiles and his shoulder. This love (or, as she was unwilling to admit, her perception of it) was amazing.

Levi was insecure about his most important meeting of the next day. He paced around his room countless times before attaining sleep. It had had to be perfect. She was.

Levi was at his office at five twenty. He was pacing in anxiety. He was losing his mind with each minute. He could not wait. He could never have the next meeting. He felt pathetic. He was so controlled by her, so powerless against whatever reaction she would have.

At 5:45 there were three knocks on the door. "Come in!"

"You alright, sounds like you've gotten a cold." Petra entered, unaware of his worry.

"Petra, I called you here because there's something I want you and only you to know."

"About yesterday…?"

"That was just for your dad." Levi sighed – this was the top of his rollercoaster's hill. He hoped the rest of his life would be the exhilarating fall. "I love you." The words made it out. The brakes were off.

"You shouldn't – I'm not right for you. I'm poor. I'm Latino. I'm nuts."

"You are you. I definitely love you."

Petra could not hold in her emotions, but there was a doubt which questioned the reality of the situation. "Truly?"

"Yes."

Petra stopped doubting – she had something to believe in. "I love you to." She ran around the desk to hug him. She was intercepted by a kiss. After that kiss came many more.

Breathlessly, Petra left the office at six, ready for the next client, the next day and the rest of her life. She felt giddy with excitement – the same symptoms as the worst of her attacks, but the best reaction.


	6. A Tale of Two Relationships

Petra was tired. Mentally, her disorder plagued her. Physically, the days did not shorten. Emotionally, she was getting torn apart. "Dad, I have good news and bad (for you) news." She entered her house where she had begun to not feel at home.

"Good first."

"They found the gang guys dead."

"Dead?"

"Yeah. Turns out they acted against orders too many times – maybe my case as well. Those three were killed as their punishment."

"Great. Bad news?"

"I have to give you an ultimatum."

Mr. Ral's eyebrows slid together in wonder and muted fury. "What?"

"Either you meet Levi and come to terms with him or I run away."

"No fucking way."

"The only way."

"Petra! No! I will not allow you to be that stupid!"

"Then, for my sake, take the chance to know him."

"Don't run away though."

"I doubt I'd be able."

"Don't even threaten me with it."

"Sorry. I'm just too angry and tire of not being able to tell you about him."

"About him?"

"And our relationship."

"You two…"

"Yes." It had been a frustrating four months for Petra because of how much she had to hide the relationship. She really wanted to invite Levi home and her father to accept him. Yet, racism disallowed her. She hoped to change it, but it took her four months to gather the nerve to force her father.

"All the way?"

"Yes."

"Like…"

"Sex." Petra was not sure how this fact would work out.

"Petra Ral!" Mr. Ral sighed. "How could you be that stupid?"

"Stupid? It's perfectly fine."

"It is not."

"Dad. Relax, it's all fine. I'll invite him tomorrow and it'll work."

"If you insist." Mr. Ral sighed. "I'm trying to balance trusting you and protecting you, you understand? It's really hard for me."

"Just trust me. I think I worry enough for the three of us."

"What about his folks?"

"He's an orphan."

"I see."

"Now that you're bothering to know him."

"Sorry, I'll try to trust you. If it's been three months, I doubt he'd have any malice."

"I always doubted his malice."

"I'll get to know him."

"Tomorrow, then?"

"Sounds good."

"Sorry about the ultimatum."

"My fault."

"I could've also been better about it."

"It's fine."

Petra texted the invite to Levi. Levi accepted in a few minutes. "It's settled then."

"And if I don't like him."

"I hope you realize our love and ignore that."

"Petra!"

"Seriously. If you can trust him, that's all I need."

"I need more."

"Like?"

"The ability to get along on some level."

"You'll get it."

"We'll see."

"Give him a shot."

"I will."

"Good." Petra sighed. "Let's not argue."

"I'm not."

"Fine. At least, then, let's not talk about it."

"Fine."

"How was your day?"

"Same old, same old."

"Same old reply?"

"Same old reply reply?"

"Same old chat?"

"Same old, same old." They smirked, enjoying the ancient joke – it was, for once, same old, same old.

"Why did I have to not tell you?"

"What about him do you love?"

"What?" Petra thought. "He's caring – the most caring non-family I've had. He's funny in his own way. He's interesting, understanding. It helps that he's attractive."

"Always does."

"And smart."

"I should have gotten to know him, then." Mr. Ral sighed. "Does he love you?"

"I think so. It'd be better if you saw for yourself."

"Of course. How does he show it?"

"He's really thoughtful and he cares about and for me."

"For?"

"I've had five panic attacks which ended because he was there. The idea of him has helped with almost every attack."

"So you really love him."

"Yeah."

"It was like that with your mother. We were crazy for each other."

"How was she?"

"I've told you."

"I like to hear."

"Just like you."

"Did all four parents approve?"

"Eventually – once they met the other person."

"I hope the same happens."

"Don't worry."

"I bet he's charming."

Petra smirked. "Of all things? Not one bit."

"Damn."

"He's charming once you know him, not before that."

"I see. Got some sort of depth to him, has he?"

"Precisely."

"Interesting. I hope I get to know him better."

"I hope so too."

Over dinner, discussion sporadically popped up. They talked about Levi and the relationship and the more Mr. Ral knew, the less he doubted Levi. Still, he was only getting one (intensely biased) point of view.

The next night would bring his viewpoint, something he was nervous about. What would it do to Petra if the two people she trusted and loved the most were enemies? Would he be able to live with himself? He would have to try to like this Levi.

Levi was also nervous. He did not know anything about parents except that they tended to be busy and loving. That was not a lot to go on. To him, he was being judged by a deity, and this divine being (producer of another) would decide his fate based on a thirty minute conversation. In less time, Levi had made the company trillions of dollars. Yet, here he did not know what to do. In less time, Levi had battled other banks and robbed them of established clients. Yet, here he could not hide his fear. It was nerve wracking to the point where he considered calling Erwin for advice. Fortunately, Petra and online advice helped him.

Petra was terrified. Her hallucinations heaped on her hysteria, helping her go crazy. She had an attack almost every thirty minutes and was professional at battling the newly familiar uncertainties which ravaged her reality. She helped Levi and tried turning her father in his favour.

After the worst day ever, they converged at the fateful dining table, each hoping that Levi and Mr. Ral would get along. Idle chatting began until Levi mentioned his income.

"Fucking rich Brit!"

"Mr. Ral… I'm…"

"See Petra, I bet you never knew!"

"I did dad!"

"And you know why you're so filthy rich, bastard!"

"Because…"

"Of your skill, you think? Of course not!"

"I…"

"Shut it! You-"

"Dad! Quit being so unfair!"

"It's alright Petra, he merely needs to cross the border for once it his life and see for himself."

"You-" Mr. Ral was literally turning red.

"You sit here and form your prejudice without basis. Come to our towns and see for yourself."

"How dare you!" Mr. Ral fumed. "Do you know how I think what I think? It's because of fucks like you!"

"Bullshit. Petra's proof of that. I am not racist."

"Mira la, Petra. Eso es la realidad."

"Yes, he is the reality, dad, and unlike you, he is not racist."

"It's not racism, it's fact."

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

"Just like the great treatment Brits get in the CCP."

"You guys started it."

"Said the invasive force!"

Petra's eyes were stinging. Her imagination saw them fighting, breaking up both relationships, pulling Petra apart. Heaven forbid a real war breaking out. There was no way anything could proceed in this way. She was wrong, defeated. She thought she had beaten old hatred, but it lived on.

She saw it in great detail. Her leaving Levi and getting married of to some idiot. Her leaving her dad to die alone. Neither life was better. A wave of dizziness came and went. Levi couldn't help her out of this one. She tried to cry out, but heard a yelled argument.

"Rule Britannia, is it?"

It was splitting her head. She sobbed softly at her broken dream.

"Spain is God, righteous Catholicism, is it?"

She tried to stay upright, ignore the fuss and let it naturally subside. Surely there was a finite amount they could argue, and then they could part ways for ever, Petra left alone in the middle?

"Petra! Sweet Jesus!" Levi was off his seat and had arms around her in an instant. "Petra!" Levi kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry. Crap! So sorry!" Levi hugged her. "I'll make it up to him. Watch, it's alright."

"I-" Mr. Ral began.

"It's alright Sir. I withdraw my arguments. I don't care who's right, or which crown has less blood on its hands. All that matters here, and to me is Petra." Petra whimpered softly as the headache faded. "Tell me how I have to make it up to you – I'll do whatever it takes, sincerely."

"It's alright." Mr. Ral finally said. "Really, it's fine. Petra, if you would like to, move in with him tomorrow."

"What?" Levi and Petra both asked.

"I assumed it's why you two came here."

"But-"

"Whatever you guys want. Levi here has shown his love for you to me. That's all I wanted."

"Thank you dad."

"Thanks Mr. Ral."

"You're both very welcome." That settled, conversation reached a norm as Mr. Ral and Levi found small patches of common ground. After dinner, Petra left to clean the dishes.

Levi followed politely. He had had to wait a minute and thus, entering the kitchen, he found Petra working like a spider – her two hands functioning as eight and cocooning plates in a web of soap, before letting the water devour them. The remaining carcasses where placed in a drying rack. It was a miracle that people still physically cleaned plates, but the poverty of the house was an extremely probable cause. Unfortunately, Levi could not marvel at the spectacle or the spectacular performer as Petra whirled around, throwing the apron off, and looked at Levi, as the cloth fell into its place.

"'Sup, Levi?"

"What was with moving in?"

"I might have lied about how far we got."

"You idiot."

"We might make it true."

"What was your lie?"

"That we fucked."

"And why?"

"To make him think we were a bigger deal."

"We not big enough?"

"No. He needed the convincing."

"Fine. You know the best." Levi mused. "Anyway, with his hard to refuse offer, that lie may not stay that way for long."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah." Levi kissed her on the lips.

"Do you reckon I should move in?"

"Why not?"

"We'll beta-test life, then."

"Definitely."

"When?"

"Friday?"

"Sounds good." Friday was in two days – both of which would feel like an eternity to both parties of the relationship.

Wednesday and Thursday were fine days at work – there was the usual business and busyness with meetings and too little lunch time.

Friday was a bad day at work. Everything was annoying Levi – latecomers, lawyers (always ruined a day) and legitimate retards. Levi had had enough. And he really did want the day to end.

"Levi, come with."

"What's up?"

"I've got a maglev for us. I'll pick up my stuff from home and then I'll move in."

"Great. How much stuff do you have?"

"A suitcase." It was literally everything Petra possessed and would need at Levi's. Levi was still shocked at Petra's poverty – the random fact that popped up too randomly for him to remember. Nothing, but the amount of money she and her father had, pointed to poverty – she seemed too dignified, polite and refined – there was nothing poor about her.

The stop was quick but Petra's goodbye was heartfelt. Though Mr. Ral was steeling himself up for it, he still cried. Petra shed a tear and shuddered in fear (her illness took advantage of everything). Levi stayed politely quiet, merely offering his handkerchief.

Back in the maglev, Petra smiled about her prospects. There was much to be settled, much more discovered and few qualms from either side. In his way, Levi was giddy with excitement.

In fact, both were so excited (not just about life, but something more physical), that they got a head start in the maglev itself. Levi kissed Petra with passion and longing, a suggestion of the many kisses waiting.

Petra returned the gesture through her own expression – returned kisses. At some point, Levi's arms had reached to the back of her dress – the green one she had had to reuse billions of times – and found its zip. The zip fell as the maglev rose and Petra's dress began to slide off her.

With that kind of a start, neither were patient in the events which unfolded in Levi's house. It ended with Petra's lie ceasing to be one.

"Thank God it's Saturday." Levi said into Petra's hair. Petra responded with a "mmph" she hoped Levi would take as a "why?" Understanding it perfectly, he continued: "That way we can do whatever."

"Any ideas?"

Levi mused for a minute. "Last night is my inspiration."

"Really? For a whole day?"

"Why not?"

"For one, I'm hungry."

"Point." In a rush for certain other things, they forgot dinner. "But after that."

"True. And I'm feeling lazy about clothes."

"So, it's decided?"

"Sure."

Thus, in Petra's year, another radical shift occurred. She left her father for another man (not quite through marriage, but it was close). The two key relationships in her life had opposite states: one went from a main focus to a background detail, the other from a detail to a focus. Petra did not object and was happy that everybody was satisfied (her father's happiness she could not ascertain).

There were two key things that were still hanging in the air: firstly, Petra wanted to be an equal in whatever relationship they ended up with and hoped that that would be possible (although, economics, politics and all past data suggested otherwise – as her paranoia was happy to note) and secondly, she wanted to be unmarried until 24 (one of her father's rules she agreed with). Both she could resolve through a quick conversation, but their plan for the day did not cater to that. No matter, she told herself, it could all be done in the future. Her paranoia tried to tell her otherwise, but intimacy, she learned, was a quick cure for her insanity.

In the end, she settled to say: "whatever will be, will be." And with the most probable of these possibilities, she was immensely happy.


	7. A Nightmare and A Dream

The CCP was being investigated for criminal attempts to spy on the UKPC. The plan revealed by some anonymous whistle-blower was quite elaborate: steadily render the UKPC bankrupt and take in over. Buy more and more shares until the company was theirs. As the shares were bought, prices would fall due to purposely bad voting at shareholder's meetings and organized bad deals through espionage.

Petra could not agree more with the media. It all made too much sense – the CCP and Los Tradicionalistas were connected quite deeply. This was conjecture only verified by the news. Furthermore, the attack on Petra proved this concretely – why else was she attacked to the level she was?

That was where sense ended. The news uncovered the plan before it successfully united the planet of Reach and broke British ownership everywhere. The UK declared the CCP to be a criminal group. Spain declared that to be a national offense. Nerves were frying everywhere.

Out of reach of this, on Reach, Levi and Petra were enjoying life. Deals flew through the door as the CCP's credibility plummeted even in South American holdings. Levi got busy and happy. He did, however, stay quiet about the news. Petra pinned this on a hidden fear of losing the company he held. Still, he got extremely busy and Petra did in turn. Their relationship flourished as always. They were fully adjusted to life under Levi's large roof.

Unfortunately, due to the nature of all the events, Petra did not have the chance to ask her father about his take. She had presumed he would be disgusted by the CCP but still nationalistically supportive of whatever Spain said. She knew she would have an attack if Levi and her dad got talking about the issue. Unless Levi had truly forsaken country for her – that would earn him so much (sex because there was not much else she could offer – not that it wasn't enough). Petra groaned at that thought. If only it did not take her three month's pay to get Levi a worthwhile gift.

Everything was going at a blissful pace. Life was calm and she was happy. Everybody around her seemed quite happy as well.

Then, due to some political currents, the legislation of Reach declared the application for Spanish citizenship illegal. The excuse, or pretext, was a population imbalance, "furthering any illegal schemes of the CCP." The Spanish government, already angered at Britain, declared the UKPC to be violators of human rights. The UK, in turn, informed Spain (quite politely) that criminals did not have the right to recruit members. This led, as expected, to a declaration of war. The UN sanctioned the planet of Reach, the "primarily conflicted region" as the zone of war. Within that area war would prevail unchecked by the UN (unless there were any illegal forms of war – such as the one used on Petra – used).

Suddenly, Petra was ruined. Levi would be evacuated to a UK holding and Petra would follow her dad to someplace Spanish. Levi was, obviously, saddened by the separation, but forced in his path. Petra was heartbroken. Their texts, they realized, would also be impossible. They were separated as if they had never met. Forecasters predicted the war to last a century at least and hostilities to continue for a millennium. Petra's grandchildren, if she managed to have any, would never meet Levi's.

Her hallucinations, Petra expected, would be lethal. She would be haunted by Levi – his face would become the symbol for all her regrets and all her feelings would be reasons she had failed miserably at life. "You couldn't find true love?" The thoughts would taunt her, "Everybody else seems quite able." How would she live without the reassurance of his constant trustworthiness? How would she live without seeing him ever again?

One night, after the war declaration, Petra got up. She silently dressed and snuck downwards. There was only one good way out of this future: death. She was dizzy, dizzy with freedom, she realized. She could do this and win – win against the war, win against pain and win against life. On the last step she tripped and cried out. Immediately, she heard a shuffling. Levi woke up. She could not write her note (it all hinged upon his understanding) or proceed. He would know and all would be ruined. She had lost. She cried quietly, hoping that she would get another opportunity soon.

Levi found Petra on the ground. "You alright?" He asked first, assuming she merely tripped.

"No." The uneven voice gave it all away. She had been crying, probably due to some hallucination. But she was perfectly fine the day before!

He helped her sit up and hugged her. "What is it?"

What? Petra had a small rage in the back of her mind. Maybe he was in denial. "The war, of course."

"What war?"

What war? Was he so deep in denial? She was supposed to be the crazy one! "The big bloody fucking -." She was supposed to be the crazy one. "The war between the UK and Spain."

"There is no war, Petra."

No war? What had she been – clearly hallucinating. But the war! It was terrible! It was just a dream. But she felt it! She was insane. "Shit."

"What did you imagine?"

"A war…"

"Yeah, but how did it start? Tell me everything and I'll tell you where you went wrong."

She sniffed. "It all seems so silly now…" Levi kissed her. "The CCP was accused (rightly) of trying to bankrupt the UKPC."

"Already off."

"Wow."

"How much did you imagine – for how long was it?"

"The news report came out a month ago."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought it would offend you and I didn't have time."

"Next time, tell me everything."

"Sorry."

"It's ok." Levi paused. "But what did you come down for?"

"Nothing, I…"

"Petra!" Levi knew it was a lie.

"I came down to kill myself."

"The fuck? Next time you have such grandiose life plans, do inform me."

"I'm so sorry."

"Just tell me."

"Will do."

"Even if it's small, I would like to know."

Petra kissed him. "It's ok. If it gets to the point where I can't handle it, I'll tell you."

"Even before that, if you feel like."

"For God's sake, then I'd be telling you my every thought."

"So?"

"It's inconvenient."

"And? It might just save you."

"I'll tell you if I can't fight it."

"Don't be stupid." Levi was worried – more worried than Petra had ever seen him.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's ok, let's go up." Petra slowly, sheepishly followed Levi up the stairs. In the bedroom, she began to undress. "You don't need to bother – it's not like we're doing anything but sleeping."

"Point." Petra avoided mocking him with "aww, man, no sex?" The time did not feel right for that attitude.

The next morning, a Tuesday, was bright and warm – Reach City's norm – and the day hid the terrible events of the night. Levi and Petra took the walk to work as a chance to talk – Levi decided to make this a part of their routine. Petra seconded quickly, agreeing that they did not usually get to speak very often.

"So, first topic of discussion: any new nightmares?" Levi began with.

"Not really – same old." Petra paused in posing a delicate matter. "But I have a question."

"Shoot." Levi's nonchalance made her probing feel even worse.

"I was wondering… how do I… how do you love me."

"What do you mean how?"

"I mean I'm so dependent on you and everything, I feel I can't give back, yet; somehow, you love me."

Levi sighed. "Firstly you don't depend on me."

"I don't? If you weren't there last night, I'd be dead."

"I think that if you were on your own, you would do just fine."

"What?"

"Think about it. You would have found some way to verify your reality and then gotten by just fine. All I give you is consistency."

"Bullshit."

"Seriously."

"You give me so much more than that."

"Really? What?"

"Care. Your food. So much of your time."

"And? All that is easy to give."

"So what? I can't give back – say thank you – and I want to."

"You do."

"Don't give me some love related crap, really, what do I give to you?"

"You help my life as a secretary and – "

"Other than my job."

"You know what I was missing in my life, Petra?"

"Friends and family?"

"Care."

"No way."

"Really – there were only two reasons people pretended to care about me: money and not to piss me off."

"So? I probably fall in the latter."

"You do not. You genuinely care."

"So? How does that – "

"Some people need more care than others."

"But that's not how our relationship should work. I wouldn't give a crap if you were my caretaker, but you're my boyfriend and I owe you too much."

"What would you do about it?"

"Give you a break."

"What do you mean?"

"Let you quit caring about me for a week every so often."

"How?"

"By caring about you."

"Petra, what you don't realize, is that you already do more than enough of that."

"No way."

Levi paused. "You know how?" Petra nodded a "no." "You remind me of things I have lost – hope, love, smiling and being carefree."

"Carefree and hopeful? That's what I make you?"

"Yes. Before you came along, I was an over-stressed mess. I had no hope in most of the retarded entrepreneurs who were drunk off an idea."

"And then?" Petra asked, not noting a paradigm shift in this field.

"I learned from you to be assured that everything is going to be alright."

"Sure. Definitely." Petra wondered if more sarcasm was humanly possible. "I was so hopeful last night."

"Yes. In your place, I would have killed myself two weeks before you."

"Bullshit."

"Or I would have pre-emptively dumped you."

"If you insist."

"Don't you see – it's your hope and joy in life that keeps you alive."

Petra realized his point – with her ailment, most would have given up and consigned themselves to an asylum. "Fine." They walked in silence. Somewhere in this quiet, Petra took Levi's hand. "Levi," she said, pulling his hand, "I should rise on the pay-scale."

"You asking for a raise?" Levi asked, amused.

"No, I'm suggesting changing my job. What do you think?"

"What do you want to be?"

"I'll go into business-to-business contracts."

"Sales?"

"I guess."

"Cool. The UKPC's always looking for those and you'd get a great recommendation from me."

"Thanks, but I'll see the options."

"You know what would be great?"

"Being a millionaire?"

"I assure you it's boring." Levi spoke from experience.

"Then?"

"If I retire and we run a business together."

"What?"

"Why don't you research that? I'd love to work with you."

"But why displace yourself so much for me?"

"Honestly, my job bores the shit out of me – there's no flexibility. If I want somebody to piss off, I have to kiss Erwin's ass. If I want somebody to work, I have to suck his dick."

"But the pay-"

"Fuck the money. I'm actually rich enough to retire."

"What?"

"I know, right?"

"I'm so… poor."

"Make the business good and you won't be."'

"But how can I… live with you and all that…" Petra felt insecure about her relationship for the second time in twelve hours. This time, she was not sure about Levi – his love for her seemed improbable and stupid. She was his opposite economically and life would never work where both were happy – either Levi would stoop to poverty or Petra would live off another's means.

"So you want to prove yourself?"

"No, I… yes."

"Great. Run the business. Come back to me after your first thousand."

"And where would I live?"

"Figure it out. I'll leave my door closed unless you truly need it."

"I'll hash out some terms, ok?"

"Fine. Come to me by ten."

"Great." They had reached the office.

Petra spent her free time making the plans since she barely had much more purpose. The terms she came to were straightforward: Petra would live on her own (she found a small 'apartment') and make everything on her own, but stay as Levi's girlfriend and secretary. The two would be able to communicate (and fornicate) but nothing of measurable value was to pass between them.

"That would make some things inconvenient." Was Levi's first reaction to Petra's proposal.

"Not really. If you just swing by my place, it's fine. It's only a minute or so from the office."

"Cool. Do you have a plan?"

"Not yet."

Levi thought for a while, musing on the future. "Please spend one last night with me."

"I kind of have to."

"And you're invited."

"See you then."

"Sure."

The next night, after a regular day's work, Levi "helped Petra move in" (neither knew whether that was an acceptable euphemism for sex, but they did not have to use it with any others as such).

The apartment, Levi decided, was pathetic as a residence but worked for Petra. It would be pathetic if somebody spent their life in this kind of place, yet the room was a nice Launchpad. It was literally a room. The door opened to a kitchenette – a sink, fridge and stove – and then there was a bed to the left. Across the bed, tucked behind the fridge was an en suite bathroom. The bed was a one-person affair designed to maximize the room's little open space. There was a window which looked over the city and formed a part of the 5% where a citizen would know their true 100 m altitude.

After the first night, (on the first morning due to Levi's generous help moving in) Levi realized how convenient the room really was. They were at work on time only having to have woken up twenty minutes before. The bathing situation was a little uncomfortable as the en suite was even more crammed than the room, but otherwise (and thankfully this was Petra, thus he did not have to dress in the en suite's square yard of space), he found it fine. In fact he found it fine enough to suggest: "Why don't I move in here?"

"There's no space for all your clothes." Petra was right. It was practical and saddening. Petra's clothes and other possessions fit into a medium sized suitcase – also her makeshift wardrobe – but, Levi's clothes would take up half the room. "And then there's the med-bed."

"You don't mind if I spend most of my nights here, though?"

"Fine. I'll save as much space as I can for you." As they took the short walk to work, Petra recounted a miracle: "I had a dream – a good dream."

"What?"

"I know! I dreamt about something weird – you know that old 'Laymil' movie?"

"Yeah." That movie was too popular for its own good – it was known to everybody and hackneyed to a sickening degree.

"I dreamt of the auction scene."

"Auction?"

"I know. I think I know what my business will be."

"You'll open an auction house?"

"Exactly – the first on Reach."

"Really?"

"Believe it or not."

"That is cool."

"Yeah. I don't know why nobody has bothered with it before."

"Me neither." Levi kissed her. "It sounds wonderful." Though only his words supported the enthusiasm, Levi realized he knew how to bring the old, carefree and energetic, Petra back – she had to feel accomplished.

Petra set to work on the auction house – "Laymil Leprechaun" was the planned name. She had a huge nightmare and a bigger dream. One was false and the other possible. She realized that Levi and she were equals and that she only wanted definitive proof.


	8. The Laymil Leprechaun

Petra had a clear to-do list and a month into the bet, finished much of that list. The first hurdle was a place. Petra found a place very near the border and her room. It was an old warehouse Calvert's company had thrown on the market once their overheads and storage needs dipped to an all-time low. Petra bought it on loan but needed two things: more money for paying the loan and cash for refurbishing the rusty hangar. She decided, dismayed only a week into the project, to post the idea onto the net.

Even through the setback, Levi noted that Petra was nowhere near as depressed as she was before – she just needed another dream to chase and transform to reality. He was happy to watch and cheer her on, like a spectator, not offering much material value.

Her use of social media (and a net-site) boosted her funds. She offered percentages of the company for cash – an investment in the future, she sold it as. With this, and jaded retired plutocrats, Petra could refurbish the property within a week. The rich, Levi explained, were jumping on board to let Petra make this, so that at auctions they could tout their wealth – outbidding people for the pleasure of being rich enough to. It worked out well as teams of decorators and designers were carving the warehouse's fallow space for the remaining fortnight.

Petra, needing income and proof to give her investors, was on a hunt for prospective vendors. Many had come with an offer to buy and few wanted to sell. There were two types of the rich – those who were bored with their merchandise and those who were greedy with their possessions. Unfortunately, on Reach, the two types did not balance out and there was a scarcity of artists to mess things up further.

Luckily, though her panic thought otherwise, Petra found people. It was karma, the way this tale unfolded. Petra needed an auctioning team and they did not want to pay for shipping. Petra offered to pay the shipping until she saw the obscene costs. Then she remembered Calvert.

"Petra! You're that secretary!" Mr. Calvert began her call with. "Good Heavens, what can I do for you?"

"I need a ship."

"And?"

"I was wondering about deals when I found your contact."

"Right."

"So what can you offer?"

"What do you need?"

"I'm opening a business and it requires a ship or two."

"What business?"

"An auction house."

"Interesting. Aren't there many?"

"Not on Reach."

"Wow." Mr. Calvert shifted, happy that he was right about Petra's success. "I'm sorry, but why exactly do you need ships?"

"To transport the items."

"You'll offer it?"

"Yes."

"Interesting. Well, here's what I'll do for you: if you grant me exclusivity, I'll take only 3% of the bid value of everything transported." Petra mentally added the 3% to the auctioneer's 2% realizing that a respect for profit required her cut to be 2.5%.

"Ok. I'm sorry to say that nothing is quite guaranteed with this – I'm not sure about the probable profits."

"It's alright."

"Also, the 3%, is that one way or both ways?" Petra prayed silently for the latter.

"Well, I'll just take the three whether or not it becomes one or both."

"Ok, then."

"Great. This will be a conventional deal, not your brilliant rental scheme, but I think that's best – least responsibility for you."

"Also I'll need to transport people."

"They'll be covered in the profits or I'll take a loss, relax." Good news was never a hallucination.

"Thank you very much. Not to waste your time, but how is the rental plan going?"

"Excellent! The plan has made us the best personal transport company ever. I still don't understand how you just improvised that."

"Neither do I. Thank you very much."

"Thank you. I'll write up something for you – read and sign and send back, please."

"Thank you very much."

"Thanks. Glad to have business with you."

"Same. Thank you." Petra hung up. One more thing was sorted. She quickly informed the auctioneers who quickly replied that they were coming with the ship.

Over the fourth week, Petra prepared an auction. The messages had already been sent and the hall was ready in a nick of time (the last lorry pulled out the morning of the event). The auctioneers had arrived and settled down with some friends and sellers from a few other planets joined the throng.

That Friday was the auction. Petra was dizzy the night before, thinking about a failed auction and the bankruptcy which would follow. It would be sad to not be able to prove herself worthy.

As the sun above Reach (the Far Sun as it came to be named) set, the warehouse filled with the rich and the artistic. The main items to be sold were paintings and sculptures. In the buyer's crowd, Petra spied a few small-name museum curators.

She bought a dress for the night – a suggestion of her father's which Levi supported readily (and regretted shopping the net with her after that – she literally became a goldfish and her hair's colour did not help) – a simple, black, figure-hugging form reaching her knees. The top, where the dress and her skin contrasted, as Levi put, perfectly, there was a comet, its tail made of sequins and the fiery ball a small white gem (it was fake, making the dress within budget). As Levi and a few others commented, she looked quite stellar, especially with two small golden star-shaped earrings and black heels (making her, much to her amusement, taller than Levi).

Wearing the dress and overcoming another dizzy spell, Petra commenced the Laymil Leprechaun's and the planet Reach's first ever auction.

Petra watched her fears melt away. The first item sold at double the estimate. The next was bought at a healthy profit. This continued as Petra kept a mental tally of her earnings. It was five items in when Petra reached the thousand mark. There were still fifty items waiting, and each was costlier than the last (a technique used to keep bidders awake).

Around thirty items in, Petra met a Mr. Bossard, an encounter which had had to be the most memorable of the day. Mr. Bossard approached her with a slightly rude: "Do you know who runs this place?"

"That would be me." She replied, to his evident surprise.

"Ah. I'm Auro Bossard. I'm a curator at the museum of fine arts on Lejo."

"Lejo? I've not heard of it so far, unfortunately." Petra was disappointed he did not pick up the pun.

"It's quite usual to not know of it. Either way, I was hoping to take you out sometime – I am here for the entire week, you see."

"I'm terribly sorry, but I'm quite busy." Petra hoped he had actually mean this as a date.

"I understand." Auro was not surprised that a woman like her would be taken (he assumed), and it fell to him to prove himself the worthiest suitor.

"How have you been finding the night?"

"Splendid." Auro had bought a few items and bid on many others. The museum's budget was almost entirely exhausted by his exhaustive shopping. He thought himself lucky for attending the event: firstly, he got all the great goods and secondly, he met Petra.

"Thank you very much. I hope to see you later."

"Much the same, thank you." Auro meant the words quite literally – he hoped to see Petra later.

At the end of the night, this later came. He offered Petra a ride to her place (where his hopes waited). She rejected him and he saw why immediately: his midget by the name of Levi. Petra loved him somehow, but Auro could not understand this.

"I love him, Mr. Bossard and I hope you do not let your interesting emotions ruin our business." Petra finished with.

"I want to fuck you so bad." Levi whispered into her ear.

"Not you too!"

"Hey!" Levi kissed her. "You want me too!"

"Fine. Let's get to the apartment."

"I'll get us a car."

"No! We're going on foot!"

"Why?"

"I have to brag about my riches."

"Fuck you."

"You will."

"Good."

"But I'm rich!"

"Ok, chill."

"I'm so happy!" Petra spun around a lamppost and ran up the dark street. A few seconds later she reappeared, skipping. "That really did work, eh?"

"Petra."

"Too energetic for you, old man?"

Levi smirked. He was happy to see Petra the way she was – seemingly untouched by her paranoia. "Yes, you are."

"Deal with it." Petra waltzed along like a small child, leaving Levi laughing to himself.

"Why aren't you always like this?"

"Because I don't always make 10 grand a night!" Petra vanished and reappeared.

"No seriously." Petra paused to hear what he had to say. Walking at a reasonable pace seemed to be an exercise in self-control. "Why aren't you always like this?"

"Too tired, paranoid or not successful enough."

"Fair enough."

"But you like this me?"

"Of course."

"Then join in!" Levi nodded a no, earning a pout from Petra, who proceeded to run off and reappear once more.

They got to the apartment and did more mature things. Petra decided to move back in. The next morning, they moved back in to Levi's house. After re-living the place's better memories, Levi asked Petra: "Don't I owe you a date?"

"We owe each other nothing."

"I want to take you on a date."

"Fine."

"We'll leave from here after work."

"Great." Petra suspected some plot. Her paranoia pointed to a kidnap, her optimism (and her normal character) pointed to a wedding proposal. She decided to wait it out, letting the paranoia be as ignored as possible.

After Monday's work day, Levi got a maglev. They changed – Levi suggested the black dress for Petra and Petra saw him in his usual suit and tie. This was either a proposal or an extremely big-ticket kidnapping.

Another maglev took them to the restaurant. The ride was longer than usual – a thirty minute sit across town. Conversation was short. Levi was nervous and Petra knew.

They arrived at the restaurant that Petra found that it was not a building. The venue was a boat. It was a yacht with a dining compartment. The ship was a sleek metal pyramid. The bottom was broad and the structure was short. At the back was the smallest face, the other two stuck out symmetrically with two balconies lined with tables. Petra giggled in excitement – she had never been on the sea before.

The dining was exquisite – so much so that even with her recent riches, Petra would not earn a table. Yet Levi did and he offered the best food there was on the planet. The meal was a chef's special – the chef himself prepared everything – all he had to work with was Petra's preferences and the ingredients on board.

Six courses in, the five-bite plates began to add up to a filling meal. The accompanying wine (a small cup to complement each course, selected by the sommelier) also made Petra feel a small bit heady. Yet the meal was great. The scintillating reflection of Reach City was beautiful, even from ten knots away. The stars, a first in Petra's life, were also stunning – a let-down (she expected some photo-quality images) and a miracle. It was nearly a complete sensory overload – she saw, tasted and smelled the most amazing things.

The desert was an ice cream sundae – vanilla with all sorts of berries (many of which neither diner could name), a compote and citrus topping. The accompanying drink was a champagne – to suit the ice cream's chill and balance the berry's acidity. Petra's cup came with a surprise. At the bottom, tied to the chalice, was a ring. Her vision tunnelled around the ring and she muttered to herself: "I never imagine good things." She looked for Levi. To her right, she found him on his knee.

"Will you marry me?"

"Yes." A stopwatch's electronics would have caused uncertainties if one tried to measure the time Petra's reaction took. Levi took the ring.

"Now the awkward question." Levi pointedly stared at Petra's left fist.

"I don't know." Levi stood up and they kissed. "I'll leave it with me for now, though."

"Of course." Petra scrutinized the ring. The diamond and gold were obvious touches and not particularly special. The back of the ring, however, had a personal message: "Trust me." "Always." Petra whispered to herself. Levi heard it and smiled.

"Now, of course, life." Petra said.

"And all the crap with it."

"For God's sake, I was trying to be optimistic." After a short silence, Petra had to reveal: "You do know the ceremony would have to wait for six years, right?"

"Of course, the way your dad wants it."

"Yeah."

"Oh well. Do let him know about this, though."

"I have." She texted him about his prolifically – her suspicions and the reality.

"Good. He happy?"

"Just about."

"So work tomorrow…"

"Shut up." With that, Levi and Petra crossed another border: they promised each other a life together.

Levi had hope. He wanted children and a great life. He knew money would be no concern – especially with Petra's job. He also knew that Petra would be fine for the foreseeable future.

Petra was not sure what to think. She began to have a sort of bipolarity – she thought that much of her pessimism was not her, but her dark side. Her optimism was the original her, the goal. With that she balanced her demons, for, she hoped, many years to come. She would, the original her dictated, be a mother and a wife and happy through it all.

_(AN: As with the end of all my other tics, here's the usual note..._

_Thank you for Reaching this point. I hope you guys liked it._

_Tell me if there was too much description._

_Also, the Spanish, I hope, you found either understandable or accurate._

_I may write more in this, but for a while this is what I'll have. I have a few scenes from much later in their lives planned (who cares about the next six years anyway, we're guaranteed no Rivetra babies!)._

_Have fun and please review!)_


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